She Whom I Became
by Code743
Summary: For STO ULC 27. Slightly revised and extended from original STO forums version. Injured in battle against the Borg, Captain Amber Stewart's comatose state forces her to re-enact part of her life - and she does not belong.


_You must never forget_

 _The essence of your spark_

 _All of that which defines you_

 _Is the essence of your blood_

 _The infection has been removed_

 _The soul of this machine has improved_

 _Look into my eyes_

 _And tell me what you see_

 _Someone real_

 _This is real_

 _What you wish to be_

 _You must never forget_

 _To modernize performance_

 _Malignancies on the system_

 _Will handicap slow up and rust_

 _The infection has been removed_

 _The soul of this machine has improved_

 _Look into my eyes_

 _And tell me what you see_

 _Someone real_

 _This is real_

 _What you wish to be_

 _Can you see_

 _Can you see_

 _Look into my eyes_

 _And tell me what you see_

 _Someone real_

 _This is real_

 _What you wish to be_

 _Open your eyes (open your eyes, open your eyes)_

 _ **Fear Factory - 'Archetype'**_

 **She Whom I Became**

 **Stardate 93593.88: August 21st, 2416**

 **System as yet unnamed, somewhere to the galactic east of Delta Alliance Space.**

Task Force 7 had now been in the Delta Quadrant for 6 months, shore leave inclusive. Following a major engagement against the Borg in the Calbriden System the previous November, they had been ordered here to investigate their latest re-emergence and the status of their war with the Voth. They had not been particularly successful thus far.

Where they _had_ made major gains was in enhancing the relationship of the Federation with the Delta Alliance. TF7, along with a rag-tag group of DA ships (all that they could spare) had succeeded in appropriating an unfinished Borg transwarp gate in an isolated system, which had subsequently been renamed Sonhadra. The Cooperative had installed another gate inside the Jenolan Dyson Sphere and thus the DA's territory had been vastly extended. To that end, the expedition had been a major success. Even the Voth had come calling and despite their continued standoffishness and arrogant posturing, they had at least consented to a ceasefire and info sharing agreement... for now.

With one flank secure, TF7s commander, Vice Admiral Desyox, had seen fit to be able to split his ships up a bit more to map out the area more quickly. Squadron 743 had been dispatched to what appeared to be an uninteresting system at long range; Standard red dwarf star, with 4 rocky planets in relatively close orbit - probably all that the small, dim star could hold on to. The largest planet was about the size of Mars in the Sol system.

What they had found had been anything but uninteresting. As they had been passing the third planet of the four, a Borg diamond and an assortment of probes and spheres had suddenly emerged from behind one of its moons, and the battle was on.

Aboard the _USS Naberius,_ Captain Amber Stewart monitored the battle from the center chair. A holographic projection of the battle played out in front of her. Through its touch-sensitive interface, she was able to relay offensive orders without having to say much. This left her XO, Commander Svetlana Deltcheva, mostly free air to bark orders at the bridge crew relating to damage control and other defensive systems. Through an earpiece in her right ear she was also in touch with squadron leader Stephen McCode of the _Orobas.  
_ On her display, a tier 1 sphere, labelled as 'S2' on the plot lit up with a red highlight.  
"Ops, shunt power to auxiliary. Tactical, when complete, fire the tachyon beam at target S2. Then paint it with target analysis and shunt back to weapons."  
"Shield power to fore." Deltcheva followed up. "I'm predicting this will get their attention."  
The Rademaker-class vessel dipped its nose and began to accelerate towards its target. Moments later a silvery beam lanced from its main deflector. The sphere's shields shimmered and sparked as they were drained. The sphere, not to be outdone, responded with a tachyon beam of its own, though being a low level sphere, it didn't have much effect.  
"The sphere's facing shields are at 10 percent." The tactical officer reported from behind the two liberated Borg senior officers."Our own shields bottomed out at 68 and are regenerating."  
On the plot, Amber could see that the _Geryon_ and _Lerajie_ were easing into formation either side of them.  
"Helm, get us to within 30 klicks and charge up the particle emitters. Let's wipe that last 10 percent so the escorts can do their work." Stewart ordered.  
"Aye, three-zero-kay." The helmsman responded.  
She counted down the distance as they closed in. At 27 km, she ordered the charged particle burst fired, and the last of the sphere's shields disappeared in a flash of dispersed energy.  
With that, the Maelstrom and Thunderchild class escorts added volleys of quantum torpedoes on top of their already firing cannons, and she saw the sphere disappear off the plot. _Lather, rinse, repeat and then repeat again._ She thought, _But in times gone by, we could have done that on our own in that timespan. These Borg aren't the same as the ones we were riding roughshod over a few years ago._

Eventually, only the diamond remained and the squadron made its way to where two of the larger cruisers, the Guardian-class _Obyzouth_ and the Presidio-class _Saleos,_ had been keeping it occupied.  
The voice of Stephen McCode issued from the PA." _OK folks, scans show this a standard diamond-class as opposed to the octahedron command ship. You know the drill."  
_ Indeed the squadron did. And even with the new-found strength the collective had been displaying recently, the diamond quickly succumbed to the 12 Starfleet vessels.  
However, it had one last card to play. In its death throes, the diamond issued some sort of high energy EMP burst. Systems all over the squadron sputtered before emergency batteries kicked in. Even so, with inertial dampeners momentarily down, the squadron was dangerously exposed to the shockwave from the exploding Borg vessel.

Aboard the _Naberius,_ the deck suddenly tilted at a 30-degree angle. Bodies and sparks flew.  
Captain Stewart was only vaguely aware of these things though. Even as she fell due to the angle of the deck, the only thing that truly registered was a burning, searing agony in the left side of her head and behind her eyes, as if her remaining implants were suddenly red hot. She cried out in pain, distantly aware that Deltcheva was doing the same. Then she struck the starboard bulkhead, and blackness rushed in…

=A=

Commander Amber Stewart waited for the end. Through the cracked and splintered viewscreen, she could see the massive bulk of an approaching Borg cube. Looking around the bridge, she could see that most of her bridge crew were either dead or heading that way. The Pacifican who had been at helm lay in a mixed pool of her own blood and the water from her aquasuit. Beside her, the Deltan ops officer was crumpled against the port bulkhead. Even from several metres away Stewart could see the dreadful concavity in the back of his skull; he had hit something _hard._ The Vulcan CSO was trying painfully to rise, but without success. It was likely he had a spinal injury; his top half was moving, but his legs dragged uselessly behind him.  
The inertial dampeners had kicked back in, so Stewart was able to stand. Her head swam and it hurt to breathe, meaning she likely had a concussion and several broken ribs from where she had hit the railing around the perimeter of the command area. She made her way to the helm console. It still worked. If she no longer had enough officers to start the self destruct sequence, she would ram the cube instead.  
 _Let's see the bastards adapt to_ _ **that,**_ she thought grimly.  
The ops console chirped. Stewart recognised it as a boarding alert. The Borg were coming to replenish their ranks.  
Suddenly, a drone from a species Stewart didn't recognise beamed onto the bridge to her left. With a burst of adrenaline and rage, she picked up a sharp piece of debris and jammed it into the drone's optical implant. The was a flicker of electricity and the drone crumpled to the floor, convulsing.  
The ship shuddered suddenly, causing Stewart to divert her attention back to the viewscreen; the cube had snared the ship in its tractor beam. Through what was left of the ship's PA, she was vaguely aware of a senior officer (whose voice was strangely familiar, but she was unable to attach a name to it) ordering other ships to fire on the emission point of the beam. Phaser bolts and a couple of photon torpedoes impacted that area of the cube, shutting off the beam.  
Stewart had been too busy watching all of this, so by the time she finally became aware of movement just behind and to the left of her, it was too late. She felt a sting in the left side of her neck and whirled around to find herself face to face with another drone, which stared at her impassively as its tubules withdrew back into its arm. Stewart uttered a bray of high pitched, near-hysterical laughter and managed to blurt out "Now where did you come from big boy?"  
It was the last thought she had of her own mind's voice began to be drowned out by millions of others...

She sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard. It was all she could do to contain a scream. She ran her hands through her shoulder length raven black hair to find it was sopping wet with perspiration. There was a brief moment of nausea, but thankfully it passed.  
"Fucking hell" she said to the empty room in a breathless and shuddery voice.  
Amber Stewart had never been one to have nightmares like that. She'd heard that dreams were the mind's way of processing past events.  
 _The Borg though?_ She thought to herself, _Janeway did a number on them back in the 2370s. They haven't been seen anywhere near the Beta Quadrant in more than 3 bloody decades. Hell, the battle of Sector 001 happened years before I was even born…  
_ Even so, the details were already beginning to fade, as nightmares often do. Stewart looked over at her clock.

 **Stardate 86063.64681633704**

 **January 24, 2409 Earth Standard**

 **0532 HRS, Ship Time: USS Hamilton NCC 83583**

The good news was that Alpha shift was due to start in less than half an hour. After that little episode, Stewart thought it might take some time to settle down enough to go back to sleep in any case. She went to get out of bed and realised that her bedclothes were also soaked. No time to do anything about it. She peeled the sheets off herself and headed straight for the 'fresher. By the time she emerged from the shower, however, much of the horror of the nightmare had faded. The thing that stuck with her was not the assimilation by the Borg, but the voice she had heard just prior - presumably that of the senior captain or rear admiral in charge of whatever mess they had gotten into. Her rational mind insisted that she hadn't heard the voice before, but a tiny voice in a dark recess somewhere in the back of her mind, was telling her she _had._

She managed to force down some breakfast despite not really feeling like it, then headed for the bridge, greeting both officers and noncoms alike as she went. This earned her a few strange looks, which struck her as odd.  
 _Is my hair sticking out? Do I have food around my mouth or something?_ Use of a wall panel as a mirror told her no.  
Upon reaching the bridge, she slumped casually into the centre chair and turned to her Andorian XO, LTCDR Shrothel Th'korrot.  
"So, which backwater are we surveying this week, Thel?"  
The thaan male looked at her as if she had asked the stupidest question ever, before tapping a few buttons on his armrest. An image appeared on the main viewer.  
"Er, well. System R97-P. It was given a cursory once over back in the 2340s but nothing since. It lies about 3LY west of our current position."  
"Fine." She raised her voice slightly. "Helm, set a course for the outer edge of that system. Warp 5. Engage when ready. Let me know when we get there." She got up and headed to her ready room.

As she sat at her desk, she noticed a small scale model of a ship near one corner of her desk. She was sure it hadn't been there yesterday. She picked it up in order to study it more closely. It looked a bit like a vesta. Vestas themselves were not unusual - they had been in service since the 2380s and the _USS Vesta_ herself was currently a lead ship in Task Force One stationed at Sol - but this ship had notable differences to the aft part of its primary hull and deflector assembly, not to mention forward-swept nacelle pylons.  
Turning the model around in her hands, she found she could make out its name and registry:

 **USS Naberius**

 **NCC 98371**

Stewart frowned. Brand new ships were coming off the lines with registries in the mid 95000s. At current rates of production, this ship was from around _4 years in the future_. She knew that some of her crew were engineers who had friends at shipyards like Utopia Planetia, Regulus IV or Aldebaran II, so maybe this was a concept design. Had one of them gifted this to her? If so, she appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't something she had much interest in.  
All at once, a strange feeling of deja vu washed over her. _Had_ she seen a ship like this before?  
 _[Task Force Seven]  
_ Said a voice, barely there, somewhere in the back of her mind. She frowned.  
Her combadge chirped, she tapped it and said "Stewart here."  
It was Thel. " _Ma'am, something out here requires your attention"  
_ Without replying, she walked back out on to the bridge and took her seat. On the viewer was the face of a dark-skinned human of captain rank.  
"Top of the morning sir, can we help you?" Amber asked him.  
" _Commander, my name is Jay Yim of the_ USS Khitomer _. We've had a report from a centaur class frigate on a midshipman cruise of bizarre readings in the Pollux system. I have about a dozen ships en route and am co-opting you to join us."  
_ "With respect sir, we're a science ship. What good would we be if things go sour? And what the hell is a museum piece full of cadets doing this far out?"  
Yim bristled. " _The Discovery class is equipped with phasers and photon torpedoes, is it not? And for your info, the training ship had a run in with some Klingons and is being assisted by the_ Khitomer _. Pollux, commander. Be there_. Khitomer _, out_ " The link was cut.  
 _[Pollux was a ruse]  
_ Stewart pursed her lips as if contemplating something. "Helm, get us to the Pollux System. Warp 9. ETA?"  
The Pacifican took a gulp of water from her aquasuit. "Pollux, warp 9, aye. ETA 57 minutes."  
"Correction. Make that nine-point-five. I don't want to piss off Captain Yim any further. Engage."  
Within thirty seconds of the ship going to warp, there was an annoyed sounding call over the bridge PA. "This is engineering. Where exactly are we going to in such a hurry?"  
"Don't worry, Lieutenant, I won't hurt the warp drive" Stewart replied brusquely, before cutting the transmission and adding "Much."  
The ops and helm officers exchanged looks.  
"Thel, let the rest of the crew know what's going on. Lt Ersin, see if you can get me info on the other ships heading to Pollux and send it through to my ready room terminal. If we're going into combat I want to know who we can hide behind."  
The Deltan hesitated momentarily, before responding "Aye Ma'am."

At her terminal, info on the other ships, along with head and shoulders images of their COs, began to appear on the screen. She was immediately struck by the familiarity of some of the faces. Stewart wanted to put it down to having attended the academy with some of them, which she had, but from far back in her mind that voice that sounded quite a lot like her own whispered;  
 _[Another time and place].  
_ Shaking her head as if to clear it, she focused on a few of the names in particular. Chief among them was a captain  
 _[rear admiral]  
_ of unknown species known as Mauris, commanding a Sol/Comet hybrid class combat support vessel, the _USS Sonneillon._ Mauris, however, was a thirty-plus year veteran who had at least twice turned down promotion to admiral. _Everybody_ knew who Mauris was.  
Among the others, she also recognised Commander Ross McCode, who'd had been year below her at SFA. A cousin of his, Stephen, had also been there, but a year ahead of Amber. Ross had struck her as an arrogant, boorish womaniser, but she'd thought Stephen was quite cute. Ross had evidently done well for himself though; Command wasn't dishing out Gryphon-class fleet escorts to just anybody…  
Another one that jumped out was Commander Christopher Hail, who captained the Akira-class 'torpedo boat' _USS Memphis._ The final one was a Commander Rihgo Yarune of the Stargazer Class _Barbatos_. Quite why he would stand out to her was a mystery - apart from variations in skin colour, she thought all Saurians looked the same.  
 _[You know that isn't true]  
_ Thel's voice, over the room's PA. " _Commander, we're two minutes out."  
_ She strode back onto the bridge, but not before giving a final glance and a frown to the Naberius model still sitting on her desk.  
"Take us to yellow alert, tactical - assuming you remember where that button is. Ops, patch us into whatever shared comms have been set up as soon as we exit warp. Helm, the _Renown_ and the _Khitomer_ are both assault cruisers. Put us close to one of them."  
After another momentary pause, there was a chorus of 'ayes'.  
Thel frowned at her. "Where is this coming from? You sound like you're commanding an assault cruiser yourself all of a sudden."  
 _[Not an assault cruiser]  
_ "I refreshed myself on combat preparedness recently. Just because we're a couple dozen light years inside Federation borders doesn't mean we won't run to trouble."  
Thel made a face but said nothing. At that time, the _Hamilton_ decelerated from warp. Nearby, a cluster of about a dozen ships were gathered. Yim hadn't been wrong; the training ship looked beaten up. Apparently it was also now captainless as Masc Taggart had been abducted and killed by the Klingons, according to the briefing info.

Further off, a Nebula class with an elite sensor package was moving back and forth across the area.  
Ersin spoke. "The _Renown_ is hailing us."  
"Onscreen." Stewart said.  
A middle aged Vulcan appeared and gave a cursory nod. " _Greetings_ Hamilton _. I am Captain Vo'Lok. Please assist the_ Ashton _with the scanning of the System."  
_ Stewart nodded assent and began giving orders to that effect.

After nearly an hour of fruitless searching, both of the science vessels had to concede defeat. The _Hamilton's_ CSO had stated that 'the system is as unremarkable as it has ever been.'  
Ross McCode's ship, the _Abaddon,_ had warped away without being dismissed and some time after that, Mauris had disbanded the temporary group.  
"Well, that's brilliant." Stewart had been heard to say.. "A bunch of traumatised cadets has us all jumping at shadows." This earned her further sidelong glances.

Stewart had announced at the end of her shift that she was heading to the armoury for shooting practise, causing more baffled looks among the bridge crew. She had only been there a couple of days previously and usually only visited once a fortnight, if that. Upon arriving, the petty officer in charge presented her with her usual pistol.  
"Not today, Swanson. I think I'll go with a rifle this time." Stewart told him.  
"I know you're certified Ma'am, but is that entirely necessary? Rifles are usually used by security personnel who frequently go dirtside."  
"Maybe I'm planning on going dirtside a bit more. Now, the split beam TR-112, please."  
Looking bewildered, the young Terra Novan human handed over the rifle, then leaned over and turned to his colleague.  
"This might be good for a laugh." he whispered.  
Stewart walked up beside a human woman in an ops uniform who was practising with a pistol. Considering the limitations of the weapon, Amber thought she was doing rather well and it was only at quite a high difficulty that she finally missed once too many times.  
"Not bad Lieutenant. It's not often I see an ops specialist shooting like that." Stewart complimented.  
"I'm a recent transfer from the security side, Commander. Long term injury."  
"Well, if you're as good in ops as you are at shooting things I'm sure you'll do just fine… erm…" For the ease with which she was remembering names out of nowhere today, she couldn't find this one.  
"Deltcheva. Lieutenant Svetlana Deltcheva, Ma'am.  
 _[XO]  
_ This time, the voice was accompanied by a flash of green numbers on a black background in her mind's eye. It sounded rather like her own, but somehow older and with a hardened edge to it. It was also gaining in volume and insistence. She was reminded of senior officers in battle groups in Numbered Task Forces and Battle Groups who had seen more than their fair share of combat.  
Deltcheva waved her hand as if trying to get Stewart's attention..  
"Ma'am? You zoned out for a moment there. I wouldn't say anything but I've been doing the same thing recently. Strange dreams too."  
"Yeah. I didn't sleep well last night. This might wake me up a bit though." She activated the program, dropped to one knee and began shooting. One after the other the holographic targets began to fall, as did Swanson's jaw. Two days ago, the commander had been struggling to get past level 6. In a surprisingly short time, she was flying through level 9. It wasn't until 12 that she began to struggle - and that was where most security personnel began to struggle…

She didn't have the nightmare again that night, but she did the following night. Only this time, the had found herself beamed aboard the cube and surrounded by drones before waking up - and this time, she _did_ scream.

She was in her ready room - where she had spent most of that day - trying to find motivation to do menial tasks that she could have done in her sleep 4 days ago and not finding it. She kept picking up that damned model and turning it over and over in her hands. She was feeling increasingly as though something was supposed to have happened at a certain time and had not, though she couldn't put a finger on what or why. It had come on after the first nightmare, but it had been much worse since leaving Pollux.  
Her door chimed, snapping her out of her mesmeric state.  
"It's unlocked."  
It was Thel. "Can I have a word, Commander?"  
Stewart noted he had referred to her by rank. Usually it was either 'Ma'am' or even her first name. She found herself somewhat on guard. "My door is always open, Thel."  
"That's the thing. In the past it quite often hasn't been. Yet the noncoms and junior officers are talking about how you're greeting them in the corridors. You never did that before."  
"That's hardly a sin, Thel"  
"I wasn't finished. On the bridge you've been barking orders like you're commanding a high-spec combat vessel and making implied criticisms about the abilities of the bridge crew and the importance of our mission."  
Stewart was incredulous. "What? When?  
"Hiding behind the assault cruiser? Finding the yellow alert button?"  
"Oh my god. Those were jokes, for crying out loud!"  
"In the two years I've served under you, you've hardly ever made a 'joke' on the bridge and certainly not at the expense of the crew." Thel countered. "Then there was the way you spoke about those cadets; yes, they jumped to a conclusion, but they would have been scared out of their minds at the time. Not to mention the way you spoke to Captain Yim as well. Questioning orders? The Amber Stewart I know doesn't do that."  
Stewart said nothing. She was starting to feel decidedly strange, as if her mind was trying to be in two places at once.  
 _[There were Borg]  
_ _No there weren't  
_ _[Vega]  
_ _The Colony near Pollux? What about it?  
_ _[Assimilated]  
_ _No I wasn't.  
_ Meanwhile, Thel was still going.  
"And don't even get me started on that little display at the range. Swanson gave me the footage. You don't just go from level 7 to level 12 in two days. It's almost as though it isn't really you any more."  
Stewart still felt as though her mind was being stretched across two locations simultaneously  
 _[There were Borg]  
_ _There_ _ **were**_ _no Borg!  
_ _[Liberated]  
_ _[Task Force Seven]  
_ _Me? In an NFT? You can't be serious.  
_ but managed to say "Are you accusing me of being an Undine?"  
"I've discussed it with the other senior staff and we agree that you should submit to testing as per Starfleet article-"  
Stewart burst out laughing. "Good one Thel. You almost had me there."  
Thel's expression remained deadly serious.  
Stewart's eyes widened. "You're not joking are you. Just because I've been a little off colour this week…"  
"That's another thing" Thel interrupted. "Your skin looks paler than it did before. It's as though someone has tried to imitate you and it got it slightly wrong."  
 _[Assimilated]  
_ _[Liberated]  
_ "You're letting this paranoia around the Undine get the better of you. I thought you were smarter than that, Lieutenant Commander."  
"So you won't submit."  
"You're damned right I won't." Stewart said with finality.  
Thel sighed and tapped his combadge twice rapidly. Two security petty officers with holstered pistols walked through the door and then to either side of her desk, looking to each take her by an arm to escort her to sickbay - or the brig.  
"You don't know how wrong you are." Stewart said, her anger and sense of betrayal bubbling to the surface. "You're throwing your career away, Thel."  
"If I'm wrong, I'll resign my commission and Uzaveh will judge me." said the Andorian.  
"So it's mutiny then."

As the first security guard, a Benzite male, reached her she lashed out, still seated, with an uppercut to his jaw. He stumbled backwards into the bulkhead with a grunt and slid down the wall, looking dazed.  
Caught by surprise, the second guard, a rather stocky Bajoran female, hesitated momentarily. Stewart catapulted out of her chair and caught her with an elbow across the bridge of the nose.  
 _Seems those ridges of theirs are just for decoration after all,_ she thought as she felt cartlidge give and saw blood spray across the carpet. The petty officer staggered back, clutching her face and cursing in both Standard and whatever Bajoran dialect she spoke.  
Stewart turned her attention back to Thel. He had managed to get the phaser from the first security officer, which was set to heavy stun.  
"And the Amber Stewart I know doesn't know how to fight like like that." he said, before pulling the trigger.  
His aim was true. The blast struck Commander Stewart full in the chest, sending her flying into the cabinet behind her desk.  
 _Ow s**t that hur-_ was all she time to think.

=A=

 _[Vega]_

 _[Assimilated]_

 _[Liberated]_

 _[Task Force Seven]_

 _[Naberius]_

=A=

This time, she did not sit up. She did try to open her eyes though - and found she couldn't. Her hands instinctively went to her face and found a device attached to her head. That was when she heard a familiar voice.  
"Easy Captain. You got knocked about pretty bad."  
It was her CMO, her _current_ CMO from the Naberius, Lieutenant Cheree Keesecker. Any relief she felt at that was quickly swamped by the fact that she couldn't see.  
"My eyes" she said, managing -just- to keep panic out of her voice. "Why can't I see?"  
Another voice spoke. "The EMP burst went straight through ship armour and fried anything that wasn't highly insulated, including your implants. Liberated Borg officers all over the squadron started falling over unconscious." It was Stephen McCode.  
"This is the part where you tell me I'll make a full recovery, Doc." she said.  
"You will, but you won't look quite the same." Keesecker replied.  
"What the hell does that mean?"  
"Well, your implants got so completely burnt out that it actually became much easier to remove them completely. It was like they were almost peeling away from the underlying flesh."

Stephen grimaced. "Ew."  
"So, once we got you back to Allied Joint Command, they were able to remove your implants and dead nanoprobes. Your reserve nanoprobes have been replicated and introduced to your bloodstream and your optical implants have been replaced with something that looks a little more…"  
"Human?" Stewart finished.  
Keesecker chuckled, "Yes. We even managed to get very close to your old eye colour. They just need a few days to bed in. Sorry to say you won't look as intimidating to the junior members of the crew any more."  
"Hmph. We'll see about that. Why did they bring us back to AJC?"  
"That sort of surgery is beyond my expertise. Being a doctor on a ship in a Numbered Task Force means being more of a trauma surgeon. Plus, AJC is the nearest place with the required facilities along with staff with knowledge of human anatomy. I'm here right now as less your Doctor and more a concerned colleague and friend."  
"Plus, the squadron needed repairs to systems." Stephen said. Then paused and added "And it's not as though my shipyards are seeing any damned use otherwise." in a gruff impersonation of Admiral Rexx's voice.  
Stewart suddenly tensed."Svetlana. Where is she?"  
"Next room over. Don't worry, she'll make a full recovery as well." Keesecker reassured her.  
"And the _Naberius_? Who's in command?"  
She heard footsteps entering the room and then the voice they belonged to.  
"I figured Captain Dewyer could benefit from commanding a ship without a flag officer on it for a couple of weeks." it said.  
"Admiral Mauris, sir. I'd come to attention but… yeah."  
"Pfft. That'd be a first." Mauris scoffed.

 **Notes:**

 **In my headcanon, season 11/ AOY hasn't happened. The alliance is still very much in recovery mode, and TF7s presence in the Delta Quadrant is causing friction at SFC.**

 **The 'fleet escort' (for those newer to the game) is the former name for the Patrol Escort (the Dervish/Hermes/Gryphon/Maelstrom/Tempest line). The name was changed in season 6 when fleet ships became a thing. I retain the old name for reasons I won't bore you with.**


End file.
